


Seven Seals

by neverminetohold



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jarvis is curious about something in CLU's possession, - but sneaking into the MCPs private room might not be such a good idea...</p><p>Disclaimer: Tron Legacy Copyright © Disney Enterprises, Inc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Seals

Jarvis had been among the first programs CLU had repurposed. The Programmer had opened his eyes to the corruption that infected the User and freed him from mindless servitude and blind faith. He had given him self-awareness.

 

Jarvis was grateful for that gift, but it had the unpleasant side effect that he now knew himself to be flawed and such a defect could not be hidden from the Programmer. One of his many faults had lead him here, straight into CLU's private room, no less: curiosity. He had reports with him in a flimsy attempt to make his presence justified should he be caught in the act of trespassing. The Sentries were simple enough constructs and of lower standing to be fooled, or so Jarvis hoped.

 

The room itself wasn't interesting in the slightest; a white tiled rectangular, sparsely furnished, with nothing but a terminal desk and a bed for which a program had no use. The first time Jarvis had seen it the quarter had been a mess, full of scattered items that had belonged to the Creator. Now it was tidy with nothing out of place, reflecting its new owners character.

 

What held Jarvis' fascinated attention were the shelves lining the far wall with their massive amount of antique data storing devices.

 

“'Books'”, he muttered to himself, pleased that the unfamiliar term came so easily to his processor.

 

Jarvis hesitated and glanced around to make sure that no program could see him, before he gave in and moved closer. Despite his best efforts his feet made loud tapping noises on the tiles while his attire swished around his legs and his nervousness increased. But surely, if the Programmer valued those devices than Jarvis' actions were justified, - as his assistant he should be familiar with the data stored here to optimize his services.

 

Stopping before the shelves Jarvis studied the 'books' intently. Their...  _backs_ were broad and turned to him, imprinted with silver symbols that gleamed in the stark light. He reached out to touch a blue one but nothing happened, no display lit up and no uplink query reached his system.

 

Jarvis frowned. His fingers closed delicately around the offending item that would not relinquish its secrets and he pulled it slowly from the shelf. It was heavier than he had expected and the texture was hard and grainy and -

 

“Jarvis.”

 

He did not jump, shriek or drop the book, but it was a close call.

 

“Jarvis, I was not aware that I had given you permission to enter my private room,” CLU said from behind him in a tone of mild curiosity. 

 

If anger was hidden beneath it than Jarvis was unable to detect it. He never could, was always left guessing when it came to his master. He managed to turn around and was relieved to see that the Programmer stood a safe distance away. Of course, armed with a Light Disc CLU knew very well how to use, no place was truly 'safe'.

 

“Your Excellency! I – I am - “ Jarvis stuttered to a halt, sifting through his memory files in a panic before he remembered his cover story. “I have the report ready for Construction Point 4. It only requires your approval.”

 

CLU raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That is no pad I see you holding there.”

 

“No! I – pardon me, your Excellency! I was only... curious. I should not have -”

 

“No, you shouldn't, man. This is off-limits and you better file that away for future reference,” CLU's tone was sharper now, although neither his expression nor rigid pose gave anything away.

 

Jarvis couldn't quite process that he was being let off so easily with nothing but a rebuke, but he did not want to strain his sudden luck and took CLU's words as the dismissal they were. He hastily replaced the book; somewhere along the line he had clutched it to his chest like a shield without realizing it.

 

“Your Excellency,” he said with a bow, noting with embarrassment how his circuitry had drained of color.

 

Jarvis gave CLU a wide berth on his way to the door, feeling the steady gaze following his every movement like pressure between his shoulder blades.

 

“Jarvis.”

 

He froze mid-step. “Yes, sir?”

 

“Come here.”

 

Jarvis turned and saw that CLU was now standing before the shelf, holding the same book he had just a moment ago. He took it as it was offered to him and understood: he was supposed to read the information it held. He could feel CLU watching him intently, expecting results, while Jarvis turned the item around in his hands, helplessly searching for a way to access the data.

 

Then the MCP did the most curious thing: CLU smiled and moved closer. The sudden proximity send Jarvis' systems haywire. Not only because of CLU's natural charisma as the Creators carbon-copy, although some cycles that was all it took to fluster Jarvis. No, it was the raw power at his disposal, it surrounded CLU like a buzzing energy field. The Grid was full of his traces, as much a part of every program than the energy that sustained them. There was nothing left of Kevin Flynn, not in the Control Tower anyway.

 

“Let me show you,” CLU said pleasantly, taking the book and _opening_ it in a way that would have never crossed Jarvis mind.

 

Jarvis accepted it back, careful to avoid making contact with CLU's gloved fingers. When he looked at it, held open between his hands, he could see the symbols filling the page in neat rows. While they made obviously sense to the Programmer his own eyes and CPU shifted away from them without focus, as if the letters provided no purchase. He was not programmed to process this format.

 

“You can't read it,” CLU stated.

 

Jarvis squirmed inside, trying to decide if he should admit to another flaw in his design or not. There was no point in lying. “No.”

 

“I see,” CLU said, his voice was without inflection but to Jarvis he sounded disappointed. “You can give me your report later.”

 

A clear dismissal but Jarvis held his ground with a sudden determination he could not quite place. Here was the opportunity to...  _connect_ with his Programmer on a whole new level if he just managed to gain more insight in an aspect of CLU that was similar to a User, the thing that set the MCP apart from BASIC's like himself.

 

“Your Excellency, would you read it for me?”

 

Seeing CLU's expression Jarvis feared he had overstepped the mark. But his master looked only mildly intrigued by his persistence.

 

CLU opened the book at random and read, his blue eyes following the lines of symbols with practiced ease:

 

“Drowning is not so pitiful

As the attempt to rise.

 

Three times, 't is said, a sinking man

Comes up to face the skies,

And then declines forever

To that abhorrent abode

Where hope and he part company,-

For he is grasped of God.

 

The Maker's cordial visage,

However good to see,

Is shunned, we must admit it,

Like an adversity.”

 

Jarvis could not even begin to decode the meaning behind the words. “What is that?”

 

“Poetry by a long derezzed User named Emily Dickinson,” CLU said. His lips curled with distaste and he snapped the book shut. “Maybe it's time to get rid of those relics.” He threw the book and Jarvis barely managed to catch it. “See to it that they are gone when I return from my inspection round.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

XXX

 

When CLU came back, the shelves had been cleared as ordered.

 

Jarvis was sure that he knew what had really happened to them although CLU had accepted his report that they had been 'derezzed'. If his master knew, than he made it a point to never comment on the fact that Jarvis' small personal space had become severely cluttered up with old relics that would not share their stories with him.

 

That they had belonged to CLU and held sufficient meaning that they needed to be tossed away was enough reason for Jarvis to keep them. Maybe he would evolve – and learn.

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> The poem was written by Emily Dickinson, no copyright infringement intended.


End file.
